The late spring thaw had quickly set in, one that swept away some of the snow and ice for a precious couple of months here in western Limeros before everything froze over again. As Magnus stepped aboard the carriage, he noticed that he’d crushed a small purple wildflower that had managed to struggle through the remaining frost. He stared at the decimated spot of color with dismay before a guard closed the door, shutting off his view of it.
“You look ill. Is there something wrong with you?” Cleo asked. It was the first thing she’d said directly to him since the kiss he’d forced upon her yesterday.
She’d hated it. And she hated him.
So much is wrong with me, princess. Where do I even begin?
“Nothing is wrong.” Magnus turned to look out the window as the carriage pulled away. He had no idea when he’d next return here to his true home-a place of ice and snow and small crushed pieces of beauty. “Nothing at all.”
• • •
Magnus met with his father the moment he returned from the tour. His prisoner had been delivered to the dungeons, and Magnus explained what had happened. He knew it was possible he’d overreacted by bringing the boy back to Auranos after hearing the mention of dreams and Watchers. But the king seemed pleased by his decision. The boy would be questioned further to see if he spoke truth or nonsense.
The king informed him that not only would Magnus be joining Aron on the hunt for Jonas Agallon, but they would also be journeying to the Paelsian road camp located in the Forbidden Mountains, where Magnus was to meet with a man stationed there named Xanthus.
Xanthus was an exiled Watcher assigned as the road’s engineer by the king’s mysterious dream advisor, Melenia. Xanthus was her representative in the mortal world. He did as she commanded. And Melenia commanded that the road be built and infused with Xanthus’s earth magic in order-the king was certain-to coax the hidden location of the Kindred out of the very elements themselves, which were now connected by the twisting ribbon of road.
To Magnus, it was all as hard to swallow as an entire roasted goat. Especially the fact that the king was now certain, thanks to his dream advisor, that if he took a step beyond the palace walls, he would be slain.
Even still, Magnus had seen enough magic in past months to agree readily to any chance to gain more information that would put the Kindred in his family’s hands, no matter how far-fetched such possibilities were.
Magnus did not argue. He did not debate. He did not laugh or roll his eyes.
All he did was nod. “As you wish, Father.”
By the rare and genuine smile he received from the king, this was the correct answer. “Good boy. Now, go and visit your sister. She has greatly anticipated your return.”
Considering how uncaring she’d sounded when Magnus overheard her discussing him with their father on the day of the fateful wedding, Magnus was surprised when Lucia greeted him back at the Auranian palace with a warm embrace and a kiss on both of his cheeks.
She was every bit as beautiful as she ever had been-even more so than the last time he’d seen her, since the color she’d lost during her slumber had returned to her cheeks. Today, however, there was a thick layer of apathy on top of his appreciation for his adopted sister, much like storm clouds hiding the sun’s true brightness. This apathy had grown substantially in the time they’d been apart. The conversation he’d just had with his father had done nothing to improve his mood.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, smiling. “I’ve already heard wonderful things about your speech in Limeros. I only wish I could have been there to hear it.”
Magnus regarded her coolly. “It’s too bad you weren’t.”
“It must have been quite a hardship to have spent so much time with Princess Cleiona,” she said with sympathy. “From what I’ve heard of the spoiled girl, I dread our eventual meeting.”
“She’s not like that at all. Spending time with my new bride has been both an honor and a delight. Despite our many differences, she makes me happier than I ever could have anticipated.”
Lucia’s eyes widened as if she didn’t hear the sarcasm behind his words. She’d always been the only one able to see beyond his masks in the past-she’d known him better than anyone else. But perhaps they’d spent too much time apart lately and she’d lost her talent to read him.
“If you’ll excuse me, sister.” He swallowed his disappointment. By now, it was a familiar taste. “I must leave once again. I only hope my beautiful new bride does not miss me too much while I’m gone from her side.”
• • •
Even though he knew meeting with the exiled Watcher could give him more clues about how to find the Kindred, all Magnus currently cared about was vengeance. Finding the rebel who’d killed his mother helped sharpen his focus like a killing blade.
The rebels, however, were much harder to track down than he’d thought. Privately, he’d ridiculed Aron’s failure to gain any clues to Jonas Agallon’s whereabouts. Now, after a full week of searching with no success, he too felt the staggering weight of failure.
At dusk, the prince’s entourage arrived at a camp set up by a unit of guards in eastern Auranos, barely an arm’s reach from the edge of the thick tangle of Wildlands, following rumors of the rebels’ shifting travels. Next, Magnus was pained to admit, they would have to put the search for Jonas on hold to journey into Paelsia itself and head directly to the road camp currently located in the shadow of the Forbidden Mountains.
Magnus’s large tent was readied for him to take dinner and rest for the night. The sun had mostly set, but there was still enough light to see. A campfire crackled nearby. The days in this particular region were warm and temperate, but at night, and so close to the Paelsian border, it cooled down considerably. The cool air held the scent of the smoky fire and roasting venison and the sound of hidden insects buzzing and chirping in the thick forest only thirty paces from camp.
“I think we make an excellent team,” Aron said, jarring Magnus from his thoughts.
Lord Aron Lagaris might now have the official designation of kingsliege, but he was a complete waste of space, Magnus reflected sourly-nor did he have any clue of the real reason they were next headed to the road camp other than for a general inspection. The silver flask Aron continually drank from was an annoyance-almost as much as the boy himself. Magnus had no respect for anyone who relied on artificial means to maintain their courage.
Magnus removed his black leather gloves and warmed his hands over the fire as he gave Aron a sidelong glance. “Do you, now.”
Aron took yet another swig from his flask. “I know things have been a bit tense between us, what with the Cleo issue. .”
“‘Cleo issue’?”
The boy nodded. “It’s best in the end that a princess marry a prince. I suppose.”
“Ah. I suppose.” Oh, this was deeply unpleasant. Being trapped into meaningless small talk with an idiot had never intrigued him, even on a good day. Which this wasn’t.
“I only hope for your sake that she’s forgotten the night of passion we shared.”
Magnus gave him a hard look. “You are deeply unwise to broach this subject right now.”
Aron immediately blanched. “I mean no disrespect.”
A hot rise of anger fought to push past his simple annoyance. “Of course you do. All that ever comes out of your mouth is disrespect, Lagaris.”
Aron raked a hand through his hair and paced back and forth, taking another quick swig from his flask. “It’s just that to wed a girl who could not keep herself pure for her future husband-”
“Close your mouth before you insult my bride’s honor with another word.” Magnus drew out his dagger to absently run it under his fingernails. Aron followed the blade’s movements with fearful eyes. “She belongs to me now, not you. Never forget that.”